


Cabin Fever

by atetheredmind (s_e_irvine)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2953874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_e_irvine/pseuds/atetheredmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss isn’t happy to learn that her New Year’s trip with friends has acquired one more guest: Peeta, the one person she can’t stand. She’s even less thrilled when a snow storm traps the two of them together. Alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cabin Fever

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Prompts in Panem's holiday challenge. I apologize for the profuse amount of tropes. Hope you enjoy, and have a Happy New Year!

 

Katniss nearly collapsed inside the cabin as she barreled through the front door and dropped her suitcase on the wood floor with a resounding thud. Exhaling in relief, she pushed her hood off her head and shook the snow off her coat. As she loosened the scarf from her neck, she finally took note of her surroundings. She was surprised to find the lights on, and there was an unexpected warmth and a faint lingering smell of smoke, as if someone had lit a fire in the hearth not too long ago.

She hadn't seen anyone else's car outside when she pulled up and had figured she was the first of her friends to arrive at Finnick and Annie's cabin upstate. Apparently, someone else had already been here but was gone now.

With a shrug, Katniss pulled her coat off, dusting off the remaining snow that clung to the shoulders, and hung it on the coat rack by the door. She stomped the wet clumps of snow off her boots then grabbed her suitcase to move it farther into the room. She hoped the rest arrived soon; it was snowing pretty hard. She cursed herself for not stopping for food at the gas station she'd passed on Route 12 like she'd thought about doing.

Deciding to claim a room before anyone else could, she dragged her suitcase into the first room she came upon in the hallway but was annoyed to find that someone else already had the same idea, their bag placed on the bed in an arrogant sign of ownership. She couldn't gauge whose bag it was; as far as she knew, the attendees were herself, Johanna, Gale and Madge, and Finnick and Annie, who were flying in from out of state after having stayed with Annie's family for Christmas. Who the hell else was coming?

Huffing indignantly, Katniss picked the next room, which had two beds. She and Johanna were gonna have to share a room, apparently. She shot her friend a text to let her know, replying with a clueless "I don't know" when Johanna asked who else was there.

Katniss had just unzipped her suitcase to unpack her clothes when she heard the front door shut. Then a clear, male voice rang out: "Hello?"

Katniss stiffened in alarm. She recognized that voice. She was not expecting that voice.

Slamming her suitcase shut, she stormed out into the living room. Her fears were confirmed when she locked eyes with a surprised Peeta Mellark.

"Oh. It's you." Despite the surprise, there was a layer of disdain in his voice.

She scowled, planting her hands on her hips. "I didn't know you were coming."

He shrugged as he took off his coat. "It was a last-minute decision." She wished Finnick had given her a heads up, at least. "I didn't recognize your car, but I should have known it was you from the amount of snow you tracked in. You should dust off  _before_  you come inside so the rest of us don't have to walk through a bunch of wet sludge," he chastised. As if to illustrate his point, he hung his perfectly clean coat next to hers on the rack.

Her scowl deepened. "If you haven't noticed, it's a shit storm outside. I could barely see two feet in front of me just walking up to the cabin. I'm sure Finnick and Annie will forgive me."

"Well, since they're not arriving until tomorrow anyway, I guess you're right," he said dryly, running a hand through his blond curls.

Her eyes widened. "Wait, what? What do you mean?"

"I just talked to them on the phone. They're stuck at the airport until tomorrow now. All the flights back were delayed because of the snow. It's even worse where they are."

Panic started to bubble in her chest. "Shit."

"Yeah. I went out and got provisions before it was too late," he added, and she noticed for the first time the bags at his feet filled with groceries—namely, food and beer.

She didn't dignify his words with gratitude, instead retreating into her room to retrieve her phone. She quickly called Gale, tapping her foot as it rang. He answered on the third ring.

"Hey, Catnip—"

She didn't bother greeting him. "When are you and Madge getting here?" she demanded.

He chuckled. "That excited to see us?"

She huffed. "Finnick and Annie are grounded because of the snow. It's bad out there. Where are you two?" she asked, hoping her concern for her friends' safety masked her concern for herself at this point.

"Shit, really?" Gale sighed. "Well, I'm not surprised. Actually, Madge and I won't be making it tonight either. The snow got too bad, so we just found a motel to stay at. It's about an hour away from the cabin—"

"An hour's nothing! You can still make it!" she insisted.

"Katniss." His voice was firm. "I'm not putting the lives of my wife and our unborn child in danger just for an extra day at the cabin."

Immediately, Katniss felt shamed. Right. A pregnant woman potentially stranded in a snowstorm would be awful. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay, I get it. Sorry. Let me talk to Madge, please?"

"You're not going to convince her to make the rest of the drive today either," he said sternly.

"I'm not! I just—need to talk to her."

She heard a brief silence as Gale handed off the phone, and then Madge came on the line a second later. "Katniss? Are you at the cabin by yourself?" she asked.

"No, Peeta is here," Katniss hissed, shutting the door so he couldn't overhear her. "And Finnick and Annie are stuck at the airport, and now you and Gale aren't coming today, so I'm here  _alone_  with  _him_."

"Oh." Madge was quiet for a moment, and Katniss narrowed her eyes.

"Oh? What do you mean, oh?"

"Well…I mean, I'm just glad you're not alone in that cabin in a snowstorm, is all," her voice got softer, as if she was trying not to alert Gale to their conversation. "Peeta's not that bad, Katniss, I really don't understand why you hate him so much…"

"I don't  _hate_  him," she said obstinately, gritting her teeth. "I just…don't like him."

Katniss didn't know how to explain it to Madge because she didn't really know if she understood it herself. She just knew that she hadn't liked him since the first moment she'd met him in college at Finnick's ugly Christmas sweater party and he'd insulted her, in her simple green sweatshirt, for her lack of commitment to the theme. He hadn't known, couldn't have known, that 20-year-old cash-strapped Katniss had basically been subsisting on ramen at that point and hadn't had the resources to invest in a tacky, over-the-top costume, like Peeta's own reindeer onesie and stupid, ridiculous antlers.

She'd been so embarrassed and defensive and, ultimately, ashamed of her meager means that she'd snapped at him, "I thought this was a sweater party, not a  _Dress like a Tool_  party." His look of shock had been his only response before she'd stormed off to get a drink, and they'd maintained a chilly, antagonistic relationship ever since. She did her best to avoid interacting with him, which was hard since he was also good friends with Finnick and Annie. When the married couple had planned a getaway with all their friends at their cabin for New Year's, Katniss had been relieved when Finnick had neglected to mention Peeta's name as one of the intended guests. She couldn't have handled a week in close proximity with him.

"He doesn't like me either, so it's not just me," Katniss added stubbornly.

"Listen, in a few months I'm going to have an actual child to raise, so I'm gonna need you two to start acting like the grownups you're supposed to be," Madge teased, her voice devoid of any real malice.

Katniss rolled her eyes. "Yes, mom. I guess you guys just be safe, whenever you get here."

"You too. Maybe Johanna will be there soon."

Katniss groaned. "She's not coming up until Saturday. She has to work," she whined. It was only Thursday.

Madge laughed, actually  _laughed_  at her friend's misfortune. "Well…I guess you're in for a long night then."

"You're no longer my friend, bye," Katniss said quickly before hanging up. She closed her eyes and took a few calming breaths to center herself, then she resumed unpacking her clothes. She went through the unnecessary process of folding and placing each item of clothing in one of the dressers, and she lined up her three pairs of shoes by her bed. She even took the time to arrange her toiletries on top of the dresser. After she'd wasted enough time unpacking, she perched on the edge of her bed and unnecessarily unbraided and rebraided her hair a few times. She thought about getting her Kindle out to read, but her stomach growled then, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything since a single banana at 8 a.m. that morning.

With a resigned sigh, she pulled herself to a standing position and slipped on her moccasins, grudgingly opening the door to head back out into the living room. She found Peeta at the fireplace, trying to start another fire. He didn't look up, likely because she was creeping up behind him soundlessly. She cleared her throat to alert him, and he jumped, startled. She tried not to snort out loud.

"Need any help?" she offered, but not for the sake of being  _nice_. If she was going to have to eat his food, she wanted to at least feel like she'd earned it.

Peeta gave her a brief glance over his shoulder. "I've already done it once today, I think I can manage it a second time," he said dismissively, stuffing some more kindling under the charred logs. Katniss rolled her eyes.

"A simple no would've sufficed," she grumbled. If he'd heard her, he didn't let on, distracting himself by rearranging the logs before grabbing the candle lighter. As it flickered to life with a small flame, she forged ahead, "Anyway. I called Madge and Gale, and they're staying at a hotel for the night because the snow is too bad."

At that, he stiffened, even as the kindling caught fire, so she continued, "So apparently it's just the two of us tonight."

With a sigh, Peeta sat back, his eyes still trained on the fire as it grew, flames licking around the logs. "Wonderful."

Katniss bristled at his response, folding her arms over her chest. "This isn't exactly a picnic for me either."

His face contorted into a grimace, and he shook his head. "Easy, sweetheart. Not sure why you assume my comment was automatically a slight against you."

She flushed with embarrassment, her arms dropping to her sides. "Well—your dislike for me isn't exactly a secret."

He shot her an amused look over his shoulder, regarding her curiously. "I don't dislike you. I'm indifferent to you. I don't think enough about you to dislike you, Katniss."

Her mouth dropped open at his arrogance, her chest burning with humiliation—humiliation at his apparent apathy and at his insinuation that she, unlike him, cared enough to bother herself with him.

"You're an ass," she snapped before stomping off back to her room. She slammed her door for good measure, as if she weren't a 26-year-old woman with dignity and restraint. She managed to refrain from screaming into her pillow at least, angrily flopping down on the mattress to do what she should have done in the first place, instead of trying to engage him: read. Hunger be damned. She'd sooner eat her Kindle than ask him for anything.

But after a few hours of trying to ignore the hunger pangs and growls, her stomach was ready to eat itself. And she was cold, despite the layers of clothes she'd thrown on. She wanted to cry. She was going to have to beg, grovel even, for some food from him. And he was probably going to love it.

Defeated, she dragged herself out of bed and tiptoed down the hallway to the living room. Peeta was still there, perched on the couch near the fire, a deck of cards spread across the coffee table as he played a game of Solitaire. He looked warm and cozy in his gray pullover, an opened can of Yuengling at his elbow.

Already the warmth of the fire permeated her clothes, and she shuddered as her skin leeched the heat. But she couldn't bring herself to speak yet, stubbornly folding her arms across her stomach as she watched him.

He spoke first, flipping a seven of hearts down on a pile. "It's not polite to stare."

She pressed her lips together indignantly. "I'm just trying to warm up," she gritted out, inching closer. She still couldn't bring herself to ask for food.

"I found alcohol helps a lot with that," he said, pointedly taking a sip of his beer. She clenched her jaw tighter; somehow she didn't think that was an offer.

Her stomach grew impatient with her stalling, however, growling loudly in protest. Peeta froze and cast her a sidelong glance, his eyebrow raised, and she blushed profusely. Damn her traitorous stomach.

Something in Peeta's face softened, and he set the cards down. Standing up, he stretched out his limbs, his joints cracking softly. His sweater rode up, flashing a sliver of his bare, firm stomach. She forced her eyes elsewhere, and he dropped his arms, shuffling toward the kitchen. "I'm gonna make dinner. You want some?" he offered nonchalantly, not even sparing her a glance.

She supposed that was his discreet attempt to save her the humiliation of begging for his mercy; she was grateful and surprised, but all she could manage was a quiet, "Okay."

She followed him into the kitchen, propping herself up on a stool while he gathered the food he'd bought earlier. She didn't speak, and he worked in silence as he whipped up a quick but appetizing meal of blackened chicken on a bed of pasta and broccoli. She was quite frankly floored he even bothered; she would have settled for a Hot Pocket at this point—hell, even just the cheese-crusted cardboard sleeve of a Hot Pocket.

Peeta took his plate to the living room, settling back into the couch to eat, and Katniss inhaled her food in the kitchen. She wasn't sure if he was that good of a cook or if she was just that hungry, but it was the best damn meal she could ever remember eating. After she'd finished, she rested her head on the bar with a sigh, reveling in the full feeling in her belly. Sated, she left the kitchen a few minutes later, edging into the living room. Peeta was still eating, having resumed his game of Solitaire.

She shuffled her feet nervously before blurting, "Thanks."

He just nodded curtly. She lingered though, staring wistfully at the fire. She didn't really want to subject herself to his presence longer than necessary, but she didn't really want to lock herself back in her cold bedroom again, either.

She could do this. She could be civil to Peeta Mellark. He'd made her dinner, at least, so she didn't have to be the one to extend the olive branch first. Thank god.

Taking a deep breath, she marched over to the chaise longue across from him and plopped down in it. He glanced at her but otherwise made no mention of her presence, and she settled into the chair, tucking her feet under her and turning her face toward the hearth to bask in the fire. They were quiet for a while, only the crackling of the logs and the shuffling of cards to break the silence.

It was only just beginning to get dark outside when Katniss noticed the fire dying. She frowned and surveyed the living room but didn't see anymore wood. Chewing her lip, she finally turned to Peeta. "Ah…where did you get the firewood from?" she asked, and he looked up at her.

"There's a bunch in the shed out front," he told her.

Her frown deepened. "You didn't bring a bunch in?"

He blinked, something akin to annoyance and amusement contorting his expression slightly. "I did bring a bunch in when I got here at 9 this morning. We used it all up."

" _You_  used it all up," she corrected. He raised his eyebrows.

"I didn't realize you were one of those special creatures whose skin deflects heat," he retorted, and her mouth tightened.

"I wasn't here this morning, and I spent most of the day in my room," she replied haughtily, pushing herself off the couch. "Forget it, I'll go out to the shed and get some more wood myself."

"Don't strain yourself, princess," he quipped at her back as she headed back to her room to get her boots; she resisted the urge to flip him off. When she returned to put her coat on, he was still diligently playing his card game. Huffing, she threw the door open and marched out into the still falling snow, glad the small path that was cleared this morning was still accessible. But to get to the shed she had to plow through snow that was knee-deep. She could feel the cold dampness seeping through her jeans and clenched her teeth. Peeta had at least half a foot on her; he could have walked to the shed more easily than she could.

She tried not to get too mad, reminding herself of the dinner he'd shared with her as she slogged through the shed and dug out as much firewood as she could carry in her arms. Her face was red and sweaty from the exertion by the time she made it back into the cabin. She didn't bother to stamp the snow off her boots outside, instead stomping rather deliberately to the fireplace where she unceremoniously dumped the logs.

Peeta was watching her, his lips thin as if he were holding back a laugh. "Would you like me to add them to the fire?" he offered cheekily, and she shot him a glare as she whipped off her coat.

"Don't strain yourself, princess," she shot back, hanging her coat back on the rack and finally pulling her boots off. Her pants were wet, however, the melting snow leeching into her skin, and her teeth were beginning to chatter, so she hurried into her room to change. When she returned, the wet pants in hand to dry by the hearth, the fire was burning brighter, hotter with the newly added logs. At least he'd made himself useful.

Katniss spread her damp pants out in front of the fire and then huddled back on the chaise longue. Peeta eyed her curiously, a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth. "What?" she griped, curling into herself.

"You look like you could use a beer." She glared at him, and he held his hands up. "Relax. I'm not trying to get you drunk. Although you might be more pleasant if you were," he mused as he stood up to grab two beers from the kitchen. When he returned, she reluctantly took the proffered beer from him, but she couldn't resist a dig.

"Hasn't seemed to improve your disposition," she snipped. He just smiled as he sat back down.

"I'm having a pretty good time actually," he said, popping the tab on his can to take a swig.

"Probably because you enjoy watching me suffer," she retorted but opened her beer as well, sipping greedily from the can.

"You're right. I've decided my goal this trip is to see just how many times I can make you scowl." Of course, she scowled at that, and he smirked. "By my count, that's 12."

She could feel a heat warming her cheeks, and she rolled her eyes. "Just go back to your card game and shut up."

He turned his attention to his deck of cards, but he just swiped them up off the table, clearing his game. "How 'bout we play a game together?" he suggested, shuffling the cards expertly. His long, thick fingers moved with ease and precision, threading the cards together in a seamless stack.

She eyed him warily, not particularly interested in interacting with him any more. But unless she went to bed at 7 o'clock, they had hours to kill still. And her current pastime of staring at the fire was quickly wearing thin. "Fine," she conceded, scooting to the edge of the chaise longue so she was closer to the coffee table. "What do you want to play?"

"You know how to play War?" he asked as he cut the deck into even piles.

She scoffed. "Of course."

"Figured that was right up your alley," he said dryly. She started to scowl at him but corrected her face into a neutral, unbothered expression, accepting the pile of cards from him. She was competitive, almost to an unhealthy degree, and she wanted nothing more than to humiliate him by figuratively kicking his ass.

She smiled to herself. She would enjoy destroying him.

* * *

Four games later, they were tied in wins. He was better at War than she'd thought. Then again, it wasn't a game of skill, just luck of the draw, whoever had the highest card. Tying with Peeta Mellark wasn't fun, especially when he seemed wholly unconcerned with whether he won or lost. What kind of human being didn't care about  _winning_? Tying was unacceptable to Katniss.

Katniss grabbed the cards while Peeta grabbed two more beers. As he sat back down, the aluminum  _crack-hissing_  as he popped first hers then his own, she idly shuffled the deck. "Why don't we play something else?" she suggested.

"Strip poker?" he asked innocently, bringing the can to his lips, and a few of the cards in her hands shot across the table when she lost control of the cascade. Blushing, she shot him a scowl as she hurriedly swept the cards back into the deck to reshuffle. He grinned. "That's 13."

Reflexively, her scowl deepened before she caught herself and pursed her lips together, then forced her mouth to relax. "It'll be a cold day in hell before you ever see me naked," she said nonchalantly, her wrists bending to form the cards into a bridge. Still, her cheeks felt hot. The alcohol must be doing its job.

Peeta looked around and shrugged. "And you're telling me this isn't your own personal idea of hell?" he prodded, leaning back against the couch, and she shot him a threatening look.

"It's getting there," she said tightly, cutting the deck in two. "Now shut up. We're going to play Slapjack."

His expression twisted into one of disbelief. "You just want an excuse to hit me," he accused.

She tried not to smile, but her eyes gleamed threateningly. "If you're fast enough, you won't have to worry about that."

Exhaling loudly, he sat forward and cracked his knuckles. "Okay, Everdeen. I'm not going easy on you."

She didn't hold back her smile this time. "Good."

What ensued was the most intense, vigorous game of Slapjack she'd ever played. She'd only really played it with Prim, who was generally too soft and timid to really get into the game; it was easy to win against her.

But Peeta was true to his word. He put up a fight. The sharp sound of hands smacking the table and occasionally skin filled the living room, followed by crows of triumph or yelps of indignant pain as they hastily doled out their cards, slapping at the piles whenever a Jack would appear. So far, Katniss was winning, her pile growing significantly larger than his; she felt comfortable enough in her lead, even, that occasionally she'd delay her reaction a fraction of a second, when a Jack would appear, just so she could slap his hand. His cry of victory tempered by pain was quite satisfying.

After five rounds, and yet another beer, Peeta conceded defeat, having lost each time. Their breathing was quick and hard from the physical exertion of the game, and Katniss even felt a layer of sweat dampening her scalp. "Jesus, Everdeen," he grunted, rubbing the back of his right hand, which was bright red by this point. "I'm pretty sure that's gonna be a bruise tomorrow."

She swallowed her snicker with a swig of her beer. Peeta gulped his too before touching the cold, slick can to his hand to alleviate the sting. "Sorry," was all she offered, though she didn't mean it at all.

He glowered at her, shaking his head. "No, you're not. Don't think I didn't notice those times you'd purposely wait for me to go for the card first just so you could slap me."

She shrugged, leaning back on the chaise with her beer. "You're imagining things," she dismissed, picking at her cuticle. Her own hand was slightly pink, but the tingling was mostly negligible. Despite Peeta's threat, he was definitely holding back; even sweet, gentle Prim would slap her hand harder than he did.

"Like you weren't positively delighted inflicting pain on me."

She rolled her eyes. "You're ruining my buzz." She'd found a comfortable nook of begrudging acceptance to his existence and presence; he was going to ruin that if he kept whining, so she decided to change the subject. "So why did you decide to come on this trip?"

His eyebrow peaked as he sipped his beer, and he swallowed it before responding. "I need another reason other than it's a free vacation in the mountains with my friends?" he asked, resting his elbows on his knees.

"You weren't coming before. So what changed your mind?" she pushed, not sure why she cared; her brain was a little hazy from the alcohol and the euphoria of competition. Four beers of watered-down beer wasn't much, but on a nearly empty stomach, they were dangerous for someone of Katniss' size. Peeta looked mostly unaffected aside from the pink blotches that ruddied his cheeks, even though he'd started drinking way before her.

He shrugged. "I wasn't sure if I could go before, but then I could. So here I am. That's all there is to it."

For some reason she wasn't buying it. She squinted her eyes at him skeptically. "Mmm. Don't you have a girlfriend? What's her name—Clover? Or something equally absurd and flowery?"

He shot her a dubious look. "Really? Your name is  _Katniss_."

She bristled, flushing indignantly. "It's—how do you even know what it means?" she asked. Despite the dippy-sounding origins, it was her grandmother's middle name; that was who she'd been named after, but she wasn't about to divulge that much personal information to him.

"I'm an educated man,  _Katniss_ ," he said simply. "And her name is Clove. She wasn't my girlfriend; we were just dating. Now we're not."

At that, she smiled knowingly. "She didn't want you to come, did she? That's why you weren't going to come before."

His eyes darkened somewhat, and he averted them, but he just shrugged again, the nonchalance of the action in stark contrast to his expression. "She wanted to do something else for New Year's, go to a beach house with her friends. I was going to go with her, but then I realized I couldn't give a shit about ringing the New Year in with her friends. So we mutually decided to end it."

The corners of her mouth dipped slightly in a frown. "That seems a bit drastic, it's just a holiday. Why not do your own thing and be cool with it?"

He looked back at her. "Why do you care so much? We decided it wasn't working, it's not a big deal. Let it go."

Her chest and neck flushed hot with embarrassment and anger. "I  _don't_  care. I was just trying to make civil conversation with you since we're stuck together," she huffed, chugging her beer.

His mouth thinned contritely. "Ultimately, I just wasn't that into her. It was fun for a little while, but that wore itself out."

"You're only looking for fun, huh?" she asked accusatorily.

He looked unaffected by her tone. "You should enjoy the time you spend with a partner, yeah."

She pursed her lips together, no real retort to that. But she wasn't ready to drop the conversation just yet; something was niggling at the back of her mind, coaxed out by the intoxicating allure of the alcohol. "No one liked her anyway," she said, lifting her shoulder. "We called her Cloverfield."

He frowned in confusion. "Cloverfield?"

"Because she was kind of a monster," she said flatly. Which wasn't entirely true; no one in their group cared for Clove because she was a little bossy and stuck-up, but Katniss was the only one who called her that. Still, Katniss was pleased with her pun.

Peeta wasn't. A scowl darkened his face. "Well, I guess you would know."

She furrowed her brow. "What does that mean?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "You would know because you're kind of a bitch yourself."

Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head, her mouth dropping as she sputtered for a response. "Fuck you, you're an asshole!" she spat, sitting forward in the chaise.

A snort of disgust from him. "You're a real piece of work, Everdeen.  _You're_  the one who first insulted the girl I'd been dating, when she'd never done a thing to you."

Her hand tightened around her can, crinkling the aluminum. "Are you kidding? She was always rude as fuck to me any time I was around!" she yelled.

"Maybe she was just reacting to how fucking rude you always are!" he accused, and she shot up onto her feet.

"You're the one who's always a dick to me!" she yelled, and he pulled himself up to his full height, taking a step toward her. She didn't shrink, instead jutting her chin out defiantly.

"Because you've been a bitch to me since day one! My god, you live in a completely different reality, Katniss! You think everyone is out to get you or something!"

She had no real response to that, her head swimming from adrenaline and anger. "Fuck you!" she spat, waving her beer at him wildly. Alcohol sloshed out the top.

"No, fuck  _you_ ," he snarled so vehemently she actually clamped her mouth shut. The air was hot, thick, their breathing hard and fast as they faced off just inches apart, glaring each other down. And then…

And then.

Her eyes darted down,  _just briefly_ , to his mouth, to his pink lips that were parted just enough to bare a flash of teeth, pink lips that glistened with either spittle or beer.

She caught herself a second later—a second too late—because when she corrected her gaze back to his, suddenly the anger was gone from his eyes, replaced by surprise and—and—

Blood bloomed angrily in her cheeks, and, shocked, Katniss felt herself deflate. She took a shaky, confused step back. "I—I—" But there was no dignified way to finish that, so she let the beer can slip from her hand unnoticed as she fled from the room, barricading herself in her room, putting as much barrier between herself and Peeta and whatever the fuck that was out there in the living room.

With her back pressed tightly against the locked door, she covered her mouth with her hand, trying to suck down enough oxygen through her nose to calm her pounding heart. Her brain was still catching up, processing what she was feeling, what had just happened, and then it clicked.

Absolute dread pooled in her stomach.

She'd wanted to kiss Peeta Mellark.

And, even worse…she still did.

* * *

Her sleep was restless that night, disrupted by her constant tossing and turning and her racing thoughts. At least by the time she fell asleep, she'd convinced herself that the moment with Peeta had been a fluke, a delirium brought on by alcohol and cabin fever. She just needed their other friends—any one of them—to arrive,  _soon_ , to buffer her interactions with him, so she wouldn't have to look at him and his stupid, smug face.

Sometime the next morning, she was dragged out of her sleep by a repetitive  _thwacking_  sound. Groggily, she lay in bed, trying to decipher the noise. It seemed to be coming from outside, and once it became grating enough to drive her out of bed in order to inspect, she angrily threw her blankets off and stepped into her moccasins before tiptoeing to the window. The bedroom air was cold, and she shuddered in her long-sleeved shirt and flannel pants, sidling up beside the window.

It faced the front yard and small driveway, and as she pushed the curtain out of the way, all she could see was the blinding whiteness of snow. Squinting, she waited for her eyes to adjust, shapes and lines forming gradually, and she frowned, disheartened, when she realized it looked like even more snow had fallen overnight.

Movement caught her eye, and she strained her neck to look to the right, careful not to touch her cheek to the icy pane. Her jaw dropped at the sight in the front yard, over by the shed.

Peeta was chopping wood, an ax arcing through the air as he swung it down repeatedly into a log until it split. Then he would position a new log on a stump he'd cleared of snow and repeat the action. He was sans coat, clad in only a plaid shirt—sleeves rolled up to bare his forearms—pants and snow boots. His blond curls were almost brown, damp with either snow or sweat.

Katniss watched him for a while, dazed, observing the way the plaid would bunch and stretch across his shoulders and back, his muscles rippling underneath. Finally, with a sort of will power she didn't even know she possessed, she tore herself away from the window, the curtain swishing shut to veil the scene from her, and she covered her face with her hands. She had to be dreaming. A hallucination borne from sleep deprivation.

But the sound persisted,  _thwack thwack thwack_ , and she groaned.

What the hell was he  _doing_  chopping wood? She knew for a fact there was still plenty of wood in that damn shed. Why was he tormenting her?

She forced out an exhale, dropping her hands. Okay, she could do this. All she had to do was pretend like nothing had happened. Complete indifference and ignorance. She was probably imagining everything. That moment that had passed between them hadn't been real. It was unlikely Peeta gave it a second thought. He was probably wondering why she'd run out of the room the way she had.

And also spilled her beer everywhere and just left it there. Shit.

Guiltily, she crept to the bedroom door, pausing for a second to listen for the  _thwack_ to reassure herself he was still outside; once she heard it, she slipped out of the room and into the living room. A small fire was going still, but any evidence of their heated— _argument_ —from last night had been erased. The cards were piled neatly on the corner of the coffee table, her pants had been folded and placed on the chaise longue, and most noticeably, her beer can was nowhere to be found, not a drop of spilt beer on the rug or wood floor anywhere.

Great. Now she had to swallow the fact that he'd cleaned up after her too. After he'd cooked dinner for her, after he'd entertained her with card games, after she'd insulted him  _and_  his ex, after she'd wanted to kiss him—

Nope, just those first three things. The fourth thing did not happen. Definitely not.

Rubbing her eyes fretfully, she suddenly became aware of a new scent, an aroma that fused with the smell of firewood. She sniffed the air, realizing it was the cloying sweetness of maple syrup. Puzzled, she looked around and stepped into the kitchen. Her heart sank when she saw the stack of pancakes that had been made recently, a used plate sticky with leftover syrup already put away neatly in the sink.

Another item to add to the "Make Katniss feel like shit" column: He'd made breakfast, clearly leaving enough for her to eat as well.

She groaned to herself. What the hell was his deal?

She couldn't figure him out. She supposed she never could, really, not since that first encounter in his reindeer onesie, meeting this guy that everyone else loved, who got along with every single person he met  _but_  her.

It didn't make any sense.

With a resigned sigh, she slouched into the kitchen and made herself a plate of pancakes, dumping an obscene amount of syrup on the stack. She settled into a chair at the small dining table, cutting off large bites of pancakes with the side of her fork and shoveling them into her mouth.

The door swung open when she was halfway through her breakfast, and she froze, more in fear than from the cold air blowing into the cabin. She shifted her eyes to her right, gaping slightly when she took in the sight of him. His hair was wind-blown and damp, curling at the ends around his ears and neck, and his cheeks and nose were kissed red by the chill. His skin looked chapped from the wind, his fingers almost purple and stiff. She wanted to scold him for going outside without the proper winter attire, but she fought the bizarre urge to baby him, simply staring at him instead.

He glanced in her direction, his chest heaving slightly with the exertion of chopping wood, and after a moment, he shut the door. But he didn't speak still, carefully bending over to untie his boots and slip them off to line up by the door.

Katniss swallowed the food that had begun to solidify in her mouth. "Ummm…I hope…it's okay that I ate some pancakes," she started. He finally looked up at her.

"I was going to feed them to the squirrels outside, but yeah, sure," he said, but before the requisite scowl could even etch itself into her face, he waved her off, "It's okay. They were meant for you. I'm going to take a shower. I need to warm up." And then he disappeared down the hallway, leaving her dumbfounded.

* * *

Once Katniss realized Peeta wasn't going to acknowledge what had happened the previous night, it was easy for her to act like nothing had happened, too.

But that was much easier to do so absent his company, so she'd quickly retreated to her room after finishing her pancakes, before he could get out of his shower and force her into more awkward interactions.

She'd been reading for a couple hours when her phone rang. Seeing that it was Madge, she answered it eagerly. "Hey," she greeted, wondering if she sounded as relieved as she felt.

"Hey," Madge hedged carefully, her greeting more hesitant than Katniss'. "So…you answered, so that obviously means you and Peeta didn't kill each other last night. That's good."

No, they hadn't killed each other, but she'd felt like they were closer to doing something else, something much, much worse.

"No, things have been…as expected around here," Katniss lied, trying to maintain an even tone. "What about you and Gale? You guys on your way?" she asked hopefully, closing her Kindle.

Madge hesitated again. "Um, so, that's what I wanted to call about. The roads still haven't been cleared where we are, and talking to the hotel staff, it doesn't sound like we'll be able to get out of here until tonight. And neither of us are comfortable driving that late in the snow, so we're going to be staying at the motel an extra night."

Katniss' face fell. "You're kidding," she said disbelievingly. She could almost hear her friend's visceral cringe over the phone.

"Unfortunately not."

A different kind of panic from yesterday began to flower in Katniss' chest. "Madge, you guys have to come. I can't—I can't do another night here with just…just us," she pleaded, her desperation growing. With no one else to intervene, to bring her to her senses, Katniss had no idea what she might end up doing, especially after last night.

"I'm sorry!" Madge apologized. "I really am, and believe me I want to get the hell out of this cramped room. But, you said things were okay, right? It doesn't sound too bad. And hopefully Finnick and Annie will be up today."

Finnick and Annie. Of course. Her last chance at a saving grace. Katniss swallowed her dread, nodding to herself and trying to latch onto the shred of hope. "Yeah, maybe. Hopefully. I'll, uh, I'll see," she said with false cheeriness. "Um, just keep me up to date, yeah? If you're able to get on the road tomorrow, call me, okay?"

"Of course! As soon as we're out the door, I'll let you know!" Madge agreed.

They hung up a moment later, and Katniss shot off a text to Finnick to inquire about his and Annie's ETA. But when she didn't get an immediate response, she grew antsy and decided to venture out of her room. When she poked her head into the living room, she spotted Peeta reclining on the chaise, a book in his lap. He had glasses on, his brow furrowed in concentration.

She had no idea he wore glasses. He looked studious, professional…more attractive.

She was very glad he'd never worn glasses around her before. She wished he wouldn't now.

Her throat felt dry, scratchy, and she worked up some saliva to swallow, then she painted on her usual mask of indifference and stepped into the living room. He looked up when he became aware of her presence. She swore she saw something flicker in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly, she convinced herself it was just a trick of the fire next to him.

"Madge and Gale are staying another night at the hotel. The roads won't be cleared until tonight," she announced. His expression didn't hint at anything, no disappointment or intrigue; he just gave an imperceptible nod of his head. She pursed her lips, left, right, as she parsed his reaction, then she asked, "Have you heard anything from Finnick?"

At that, he sighed and set his book down, removing his glasses to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. Talked to him early this morning. There were still no flights leaving the airport, so they are staying at her parents' another night until they can find a flight here," he informed her, and he actually sounded tired, resigned.

Her heart sank, and she had to physically bite back a groan. Somehow, though, she knew. She just knew this was going to happen.

And for some reason there came a weird flutter of her pulse, her heart beat starting to gallop at the prospect of another day, another night with him. Alone. Just the two of them…

"Why were you chopping wood this morning?" she blurted, demanded, really, just to derail her train of thought.

His eyebrow twitched, his eyes widening just briefly, and then he inhaled deeply, averting his eyes. "I was, ah…getting out some pent-up energy, I guess. I feel like I'm going stir-crazy or something. So I thought I'd do something productive." He ended his answer with a shrug.

She could understand that. She felt like she'd benefit from chopping some wood right now too, driving an ax into something over and over again. But she doubted she could yield that ax very well, certainly not as well as Peeta.

And just like that, she was picturing it all over again, the way his arms flexed as he brought the ax down repeatedly, forcefully, the intense, possessed look that shrouded his face…

Her own face immediately flamed with heat, and she turned on her heel without another word, marching back into her room.

Another night alone with Peeta. The universe was testing her…and the scariest part was that she suddenly didn't know if she could win.

* * *

She was slowly losing her mind, locked up in her room in her effort to avoid Peeta. She read more, lay in bed, stared forlornly out the window at the snow, then did yoga for an hour, running through every pose she could remember from her classes.

She should have done it sooner; it helped in relaxing her agitated nerves and calmed the storm brewing in her head. Sufficiently sweaty, she slipped out of her room to take a shower in the communal bathroom. Except the tile walls and curtain were still slightly damp from when Peeta showered earlier, and suddenly she was reminded of him all over again, now with the intrusive thoughts of him naked, standing in the very spot she stood now. Frustrated, Katniss rinsed off as quickly as she could, barely managing to get all the suds out of her hair before she hopped out of the shower and wrapped a large towel around her body. Distractedly shoving her dirty clothes under her arm, she threw the bathroom door open and darted into the hallway.

And right into a solid wall of chest.

"Whoa!"

Gasping loudly, she ricocheted backward, but two hands gripped her upper arms to steady her. Her clothes dropped to the ground as she desperately struggled to tighten the loosening towel around herself.

She and Peeta locked eyes, both momentarily paralyzed with shock, but he seemed to realize right then that he was holding her tightly against him. "Fuck—sorry!" he cursed, releasing her like she'd burned his hands, and he held them up palm-side out, taking a step back.

Horror and humiliation surged inside her, and she reacted the only way she knew how: with anger. "What are you doing back here?!" she barked, hastily, and with as much dignity and care she could muster so as to not flash him, bent over to snatch up her clothes.

He looked stunned. "I was coming to use the bathroom!"

"And were you just out here waiting to catch me half-naked or something?!" she glowered at him, her cheeks and ears burning hot. His face twisted in disbelief, and he dropped his hands.

"Seriously, you walk out in just a towel knowing full-well I'm here somewhere in the cabin, and you're accusing  _me_  of shady intentions?" he replied, and her eyes widened, the anger deflating dramatically.

Embarrassed, she stepped around him and took off for her bedroom, but he called after her. Katniss whirled around on her heel to find him red-faced and cringing, her underwear dangling from his outstretched hand. "Ah, you…forgot these," he said apologetically, not even looking her in the face.

She hadn't thought the situation could get anymore mortifying, and of course she was wrong. Stifling a whimper, she yanked her panties from him and stormed into her room. She slammed her door shut hard, probably hard enough to trigger an avalanche.

God, she could only hope an avalanche would swallow her whole right now, so she wouldn't have to live with the embarrassment of this moment.

* * *

A soft rapping on her door hours later made her tense, and she lifted her head up from her pillow, staring at the door.

"Are you just going to stay in there all day?" Peeta asked from the other side, and she scowled to herself, debating responding at all.

"Yeah, maybe," she replied just loud enough for him to hear her through the door.

"Come on, Katniss," he sighed. "Don't you want to eat or anything?"

Yes. Of course she did. Pushing off her bed, she stalked to the door and hesitated only briefly before she cracked it open, peering up at him. He seemed mildly surprised she'd opened the door at all. "What does it matter to you?" she demanded, and his expression shifted as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"I know you've got to be as bored as I am," he said.

"So play some more Solitaire. Why do you care what I'm doing?"

"When you're stuck inside for two days, it's more entertaining if you've at least got company."

She flushed slightly, her fist tightening on the door knob. "I'm not interested in entertaining you anymore," she snapped, thinking of last night and the earlier hallway incident.

Peeta groaned, his head dipping back in slight exasperation. "Katniss, stop acting like a child. What's the big deal? I'm sorry I saw you in a towel, but I've seen more skin when you wear that green bikini of yours," he said, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he was already turning away from her. "Just come eat when you're done pouting, okay?"

She watched his back retreat, still stunned. She wasn't sure how to interpret his comment about her bikini. She never really gave much thought before to being in her bikini around him, especially since she didn't like him. But now she wasn't entirely too sure how to feel, suddenly hit with a wave of delayed self-consciousness. Why was her green bikini even a thought in his head right now?

"Dammit," she muttered under her breath, annoyed that she was this rattled by him. Throwing a wool blanket over her shoulders, she decided to stop analyzing everything and just get something to eat.

Her mouth curled into her usual scowl as she shuffled warily into the kitchen, where Peeta was at the stove spooning some kind of pasta into a bowl. There was a hint of a smirk ghosting his lips as he looked up at her. "Ah, somehow I knew the promise of food would lure you out," he said.

"Don't push it," she grunted, and he handed the bowl in his hand to her. She examined the contents curiously. It looked like fettuccini alfredo with bacon and tomatoes. She shook her head. "You're so weird. Most people would just stock up on frozen pizza or peanut butter sandwiches or something while on vacation."

He eyed her as he made his own bowl, looking somewhat offended. "We're not in college anymore. My taste palate has evolved beyond PB&J and ramen," he chastised. She chose to shovel some pasta into her mouth instead of responding, lest she insult him enough that he take back the food.

It was good, infinitely better than any ramen or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but Katniss kept this thought to herself, parking herself on the chaise longue and silently eating her pasta, wrapped in her blanket. Peeta sat down on the couch with his food and a beer, sliding a second beer toward her in offering. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and he rolled his eyes.

"You are the most untrusting person I have ever met," he mused, sipping his own beer for emphasis before he began to eat, adding after he'd swallowed "Drink it, or don't. It'll get drank either way."

The problem was that she just wasn't sure how much she trusted herself drunk. Still, she found herself reaching for the can, popping the tab and heartily swallowing the cold, frothy liquid. She was inexplicably anxious and nervous around him now, despite her outward attitude, and she was too scared to really examine why. So she would drink, whatever defense mechanism she could use; it was probably the same impulse that kept her constantly at odds with him, if she cared to examine it—which she didn't.

"I would've gotten my own food and alcohol," she said suddenly before her previous thought process could go anywhere dangerous, "if I'd realized how much it was going to snow. I'd just planned to go to the store after I got here."

His smile was a little too smug. "I kind of figured somebody would be unprepared. Once I realized how bad it was outside, I decided to get more provisions before going to the store was impossible."

She frowned at him, clutching the warm bowl to her chest. "You know, I had errands to run yesterday morning, otherwise I would've been able to get here sooner to take care of my own shit—"

He held up his hand. "Retract the claws, sweetheart. I'm not holding it over your head. I just meant that I was trying to be helpful," he defused the brewing argument, and she turned her frown to her pasta, stuffing another creamy bite into her mouth.

Maybe she could drop her hackles, just a little. He'd been feeding her the last two days, so she should at least show her gratitude for that. "Well…thanks…for the food and stuff," she said quietly, keeping her eyes averted so she didn't have to look into his earnest blue eyes.

"You're welcome."

They ate in silence for a bit, Katniss tentatively enjoying the warmth and comfort of the fire and food. Plus the beer—that was helpful.

But still there was an elephant in the room, a lingering tension from the night before. She had no idea how to broach the subject—and furthermore, she was too stubborn to be the one to bring it up.

Thankfully, Peeta cracked first after he'd finished eating, clearing his throat. "Look. About last night." Her heart seized, briefly sticking in her throat, and she cut her eyes to him fearfully. Here it was. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. It was…immature. So, I'm sorry."

Her eyelids fluttered as she stared at him, uncomprehending. That hadn't been what she was expecting. "I…that's it?" she sputtered, her brow furrowing.

"What do you mean? Is that not enough for you?" he asked guardedly, regarding her quizzically.

She continued to stare at him, her mind racing. She wasn't crazy. She might've tried to convince herself so this morning, to write off whatever passed between them last night as a figment of her imagination, but she felt a budding indignance at his complete denial and ignorance now.

There was absolutely no way she was the only one who felt it.

"You know what I'm talking about," she snapped, setting her bowl down on the coffee table. His expression didn't change, aside from his jaw tightening, ever so slightly.

"No, I don't," he said, eerily calm.

"You're a liar," she bit out.

"Tell me. Tell me what else happened last night, Katniss," he goaded, and she clamped her lips shut. She understood now; she'd walked right into that one. He was challenging her, trying to make her say it first.

She inhaled deeply, screwing on her most ferocious scowl. "Nothing, except it was just confirmed for me what an asshole you are," she said angrily, climbing off the chaise longue.

She wasn't prepared for Peeta to follow suit, shooting off the couch to grab her arm and turn her back to him, dangerously close. "Katniss—"

"Don't," she warned him, panic rising in her throat, and he stared at her intently, studying her.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, "Do you really not want me to?"

She couldn't look at him, warring with herself. "No," she finally whispered.

"Katniss," he implored. "If you want it, I need to hear you say yes."

She closed her eyes, sucking in a tremulous breath. Then she gave a small, succinct nod of her head. "Yes," she whimpered.

His mouth crushed against hers before the word was even completely out of her mouth. She gasped, the sound silenced by his lips sealing around hers and his tongue sweeping into her mouth. She reciprocated instantly, instinctively, meeting each stroke of his tongue with a needy forcefulness of her own. He tasted sweet, hot, like honeyed release, and she moaned in relief, winding her arms around his shoulders, her blanket falling to the floor.

One of his hands bracketed her face, holding her in place as he ravaged her mouth, the other hand gripping her waist. She pressed her body tight against his, feeling the hard lines and sinews of his muscles, softened in just the right places against her own frame—but not where it counted most. No,  _there_  she could feel his cock hardening underneath his pants against her pelvis with every stroke of his tongue on hers, every pass of his hand over the curve of her hip and ass; Katniss clung to his shoulders tighter, her own body thrumming with arousal, electricity sparking between her thighs and in her nipples every time the stiff peaks rubbed against his firm chest.

"Fuck," he growled into her mouth before she coaxed him into another urgent kiss. He snaked his other hand around her back, slipping them both under the waistband of her pants and underwear to cup her bare ass. She groaned in the back of her throat at the smooth texture of his palms, chills tightening the vertebrae in her spine when a rough callus on his fingers would scrape against her skin; he hoisted her up against his erection, their hips grinding together as she wound a leg around his thigh, and her groan dissolved into a cry when the minor friction stimulated her clit.

"Peeta," she panted, pawing at his shoulders, tugging at the thick material of his shirt, struggling to relieve him of the unnecessary barrier. He got the hint and briefly released her before shrugging the shirt over his head. She only had a second to marvel at his broad, solid chest and shoulders, the cut of his hips, the light, coarse hair that circled his navel and dipped tantalizingly below the line of his pants, and then Peeta was back on her, frantically peeling her own sweater off her and capturing her lips in another kiss.

Her hands traced his naked flesh greedily, mapping the planes of his torso and back as his tongue did the same with her mouth. She was overwhelmed on all fronts, by his taste and texture, by his smell—clean and masculine and smoky—by the heat of the fire on her back and the heat ignited by their frenzy; she wasn't sure which was hotter, more stifling.

Rattled, Katniss pushed on his chest to break the kiss. "P-pants," she gasped, casting her eyes at his lower half so he understood. He complied, hastily unfastening his pants to push them down his legs. She reached behind her back and fumbled with the clasp on her bra, immediately releasing the tension and letting it slide down her arms to the floor. She went to remove her pants but paused, wide-eyed, when she realized Peeta was openly, shamelessly leering at her breasts. "What—"

"Fuck, you're so fucking gorgeous," he cursed reverently, actually dropping to his knees in front of her to tug off her pants. Moisture flooded her panties; she didn't think it was possible to be more turned on, but hearing the dirty ways his mouth verbally worshiped her made her even wetter. She fisted his curls in her hands for balance as he ripped her pants down and off her feet, then he pulled her down to her knees as well, gathering her in his arms to draw her back in for another searing kiss that left her lips bruised from the biting nips of his teeth.

He started to lay her backward on the rumpled blanket, but she halted him once she was on her elbows, pushing on his chest. They were both breathing heavily, chests heaving, and it took a moment for her to find her thoughts, so lost in the sight of his near-black eyes, red lips and ruffled hair. She shook her head. "Do you—do you have a, a condom?" she forced out before she could lose focus again.

His eyes went wide with awareness before his face crumbled the next second, and he groaned pathetically, dropping his head against her breasts. "No, fuck. I don't.  _Fuck_ ," he babbled profanely, and her heart sank. "Fuck, I wasn't planning—wait!" He lifted his head up, hope lighting his eyes, and he scrambled to his feet before running out of the room.

Perplexed, Katniss' gaze followed him until he disappeared, then she ended up staring into space as her logical mind began to kick in and override her lust and pesky base animal instincts.

What the hell was she doing? About to have sex with Peeta? She hated Peeta, she reminded herself unconvincingly. Didn't she? This was insane. She was insane. He was insane. They couldn't do this.

She started to cover herself with the blanket, ready to call it off, when Peeta lumbered back into the room, his bare chest heaving and a strip of gold condoms in his hand. "I found these in Finnick and Annie's room, I think they left them from the last time they were here—" he explained breathlessly, but she wasn't paying attention.

She couldn't stop staring at him, drinking in his beauty, the unadulterated sexual attraction singing through her body just at the sight of him, awakened by that first damn kiss.

Most importantly, she couldn't stop staring at his cock, which, even hidden by the restrictive material of his black boxer briefs, was thick and hard and bunched up near the waistband. Who knew this was what Peeta Mellark had been working with all along.

"Do y—"

"Oh my god,  _hurry_ ," she groaned, collapsing on her back and throwing the blanket aside.

Peeta was on his knees between her legs in an instant, hovering over her as he dropped the condoms on the ground beside her head, then he kissed her again, dipping his tongue into her mouth. "So demanding even when you're on your back and begging for sex," he teased darkly, his lips spelling the words against her own, and she nipped at his tongue indignantly.

"I am  _not_ beg—ohh  _god_ ," she gasped when he pressed his fingers against her swollen clit, rubbing it through her panties. The friction was delicious, simultaneously relieving the budding pressure between her thighs yet intensifying it.

"That's not what your body's telling me," he murmured, his tone smug; she knew it was apparent to him how wet she was, just by the soaked crotch of her underwear. She might have been insulted, embarrassed by his declaration, if his fingers weren't otherwise doing something exquisite to her body. She was rendered speechless, her mouth stretching with her breathy pants, and his fingers continued to move between her legs, leisurely stroking her clit and lips.

Peeta trailed his mouth down her neck, punctuating each swivel of his wrist with a kiss to her decolletage. When he reached her breast, he swirled his tongue around the stiff nipple and then sucked it between his lips, just as he stretched her panties to the side to slip his hand underneath. The dual sensations were nearly enough to undo her, and all it took were a few more revolutions of his fingers on her wet clit to send her spiraling. She tried to choke back her moan and failed entirely, singing her release to the ceiling.

Her heart was pounding as blood rushed through her ears, and her whole body quaked in the aftermath of her orgasm; it took a while for her body to uncoil, allowing her to relax against the floor. Peeta continued to tease her nipple with his tongue, experimentally dipping two of his fingers inside her before he slowly pushed them all the way inside her. She inhaled loudly through her teeth as he stretched her; her walls were still pulsing from her release, and she clenched around him when he delicately pushed up against her pelvic wall.

"Well, that was incredibly fas—" he started to say, but she cut him off.

"Don't say it," she threatened, weakly closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at his arrogant face. No doubt his ego was bigger than his cock right now; she'd come entirely too quickly. But she'd been wound so tightly the last two days, no wonder she snapped so easily. "Don't say it if you still want to get laid."

A short, gruff laugh of amusement rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her still sensitive nipples, and she felt her clit throb in response. Pivoting her head to the side, she located the condoms and hurriedly ripped one off to open.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," he told her, lifting himself up enough to shuck his boxer-briefs off. Her hands wavered on the condom as her eyes drifted, unbidden, to his exposed cock, and she bit her lip between her teeth so hard she almost drew blood. Once he toed his underwear off his foot, he nuzzled his mouth against her ear, and she promptly resumed removing the condom. "I'm so fucking hard right now, and you coming so soon just makes me feel like I'm gonna explode any second."

"Don't—don't try to make excuses for your lack of stamina," she mocked, but any malice was softened by the slight tremor in her voice as she took his cock in hand and rolled the condom down his shaft. His resulting moan intercepted any snappy retort of his own. Good. There was entirely too much talking right now. She just needed him inside her, fucking her relentlessly to the point where she couldn't think anymore.

It seemed Peeta was tired of talking too, because he fell silent, curled his hand around her hip and lined his cock between her thighs before pushing into her with two rough thrusts. He filled her completely, and Katniss moaned at the delicious intrusion as she adjusted. Peeta's quiet groan fanned across her ear, and she clawed at his back to signal to him to proceed. He complied, his hurried, hard thrusts digging her back uncomfortably into the wood floor. The thin blanket was no help, but she didn't care, so focused on the way his cock stretched her over and over, mesmerized by the way his muscles danced underneath her hands, entranced by the way his hot grunts warmed her neck. She was oblivious to her own preening cries, angling her hips so he could slide inside her at a better, more comfortable angle.

"Harder," she gasped, desperate for him to finish, to unravel inside her so she could reclaim some control.

"You want—me—to fuck—you harder," he gritted out, and it wasn't a question but a challenge. She nodded, breathing hard but shallow breaths. Peeta sat up on his knees some, holding onto her thighs for leverage and balance, and he fucked her more forcefully, his thrusts fast and deep as his cock pistoned in and out of her.

"Oh fuck," she cried out, her breasts bouncing with his efforts, her back sliding painfully against the floor. He was barely holding on, she could tell by the deep flush of his face and chest, the hard lines of his clenched jaw, and she cupped her own breasts in her hands to play with them, to encourage him to his end.

He looked unhinged as he watched her, inhaling a sharp gasp a moment later when he came suddenly. "Fuck," he panted, dropping her thighs and nearly collapsing on top of her before he caught himself on his elbows. His cock throbbed inside her, filling the condom, and he thrust shallowly a few times until he was done. They wheezed in silence for a few minutes, their breaths sticky against the other's sweaty skin, and finally Peeta pulled out of her with a disappointed groan, rolling off her onto his back beside her. Katniss felt wet and empty between her thighs, and she clamped her thighs together, pulling as much of the blanket over her naked body as she could.

He spoke after a moment, his voice gravelly. "That was, uh…"

"Yeah," she agreed weakly.

"Yeah," he echoed, then he pulled the condom off his softening shaft and tied it off, setting it on the floor beside him. She wrinkled her nose, but she couldn't blame him; she didn't feel like she could get up just yet either. In fact, she was fading fast, the post-coital euphoria setting in and making her eyelids heavy.

"So…" he began, but she shook her head, snuggling on her side.

"No talking yet," she yawned. "Just let me rest first."

He sighed softly, but she thought she detected a hint of fondness in the sound. Sleep came quickly after that, but not before she felt him slip a couch pillow under her head.

* * *

She didn't know how much time had passed when she woke up, but it was still night out and thankfully the fire was still crackling soothingly beside her. Peeta's presence was apparent immediately, and she lifted her head to look at him. He was sleeping on his back, his face relaxed in unconsciousness. He really was beautiful, the muted orange reflections of the fire dancing across his sharp features, playing with the highlights of his messy curls.

Gnawing her lip worriedly, Katniss tried to sit up as quietly and smoothly as possible, so as not to wake him, but his hand closed over her arm, stilling her. She startled in surprise; guess he was awake after all. He cracked an eye open to peer at her. "Don't get up," he said, his voice hoarse with sleep.

"Peeta…" she trailed off uncertainly.

He opened both his eyes now. "Just stay with me. You don't have to run."

She looked away guiltily. "It was just sex…we don't have to do this," she said vaguely, but he pulled her against his side, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"Is it? Just sex?" he asked solemnly, not letting her break his gaze.

She parted her lips to speak but found the thoughts difficult to voice. "I…we can't stand each other, Peeta," she offered uselessly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I'm wrong, but you don't normally fuck people you can't stand," he challenged.

She wanted to laugh, frustration and panic swirling in her chest because he was making her think things she couldn't afford to think right now. "Maybe we—maybe we were just bored," she tried again.

He shook his head defiantly, rolling her onto her back and covering her body with his own. But she didn't much mind, thrilling at the weight of him, at the whisper of his lips against her neck. "I can think of less… _messy_  ways to entertain myself if I'm just bored."

Messy. She smiled at that. She knew what he meant—this was definitely messy, in more ways than one. "So what…what exactly are you trying to tell me?" she pressed. "You can't possibly  _like_  me…"

Regretfully, his lips stopped their path on her neck as he lifted his head to look at her. "I'm insanely attracted to you," he said honestly. "I haven't had the chance to decide if I actually like you. You've had your guard up since the moment I met you."

She frowned at him, her defenses rising. "Because you were an asshole to me, you made fun of me."

His mouth twisted humorously. "Katniss, I wasn't making fun of you. I mean, I didn't mean to make fun of you, and definitely not in a malicious way. I was trying to hit on you that night at Finnick's. He told me about you, and then when I saw you, I thought you were cute. But I was drunk, and I flubbed what I thought was a great opening line."

And just like that, her defenses dropped. She stared stupidly at him, mentally replaying the night they'd met.  _"Simple green sweater. I like the understated look,"_ he'd said as he'd gestured to her sweater. She'd thought he'd insulted her; she'd never thought for one second he'd been trying to come on to her, automatically jumping to the assumption that he'd been mocking her. But in this new light…she felt foolish, chagrined, a flush consuming her face.

"Oh. I thought…I didn't even realize…" She didn't know what to say, rattled by the undoing of everything she thought she'd known to be true the last six years.

Peeta shrugged, resuming peppering her chest with kisses. "S'okay. Just think about it, okay? You and me…"

"Okay," she said dumbly, her mouth falling open and her eyes closing when he sucked her nipple into his mouth. "Wh…what are you going to do while I think about it?" she asked, dazed, not even sure why she kept talking.

His wet lips released her breast, and he trailed them farther down her stomach, her ab muscles contracting at the light, ticklish touch. "I'm going to find out what you taste like," he murmured, pausing to dip his tongue into her belly button as he moved down her body. Her eyes widened even as her thighs bowed open reflexively, and she looked down at him between her legs.

"You're gonna—?" But her question caught in her throat with a gasp when he licked at her, drawing his tongue between her folds up to her tender clitoris. "Tha—that's…emotional manipulation," she accused lightly, her hands fisting in his hair to hold him in place contradicting her words.

He hummed against her lips, making her moan. "Maybe, but I think you're getting the better end of the deal here," he joked, circling her clit teasingly before applying more pressure with focused flicks of his tongue.

"Shit," she cursed, not interested in anymore banter. She squeezed her eyes shut to marvel at the feel of his tongue between her thighs, lapping up her arousal seeping out of her and redoubling his attention on her clit. "Oh fuck, Peeta," she keened, her body writhing under the prayer of his mouth on her. She couldn't stop herself from grinding against his face, desperate for more friction, more pressure from his tongue on her clit. "Keep—please, keep doing that," she begged, whimpering and panting as the pleasure mounted at her core. He listened to her cues, focusing the direction and speed of his tongue strokes in the manner she wanted, and within seconds her entire body tensed, her muscles and limbs locking as another orgasm tore through her. Shouting softly, she threw her head back into the pillow and arched her back off the floor. Peeta didn't let up, alternating between drinking up the rush of moisture from her pussy and licking her clit.

When she finally melted into the floor, he released her, bracing himself on his hand and wiping his mouth off with the other before leaning down to kiss her. Then he smirked at her. "Try not to let that mind-blowing orgasm affect your decision though," he taunted.

She tried to muster her most searing scowl, but it felt like a grimace more than anything. Buoyed by her climax and the feel of his erection resting on her stomach, however, she pushed him down onto his back as she sat up. "Shut up," she said, straddling him. Intrigue and excitement flashed across his face, and he propped his head up on one of the couch pillows while she grabbed another condom and tore into it, rolling it onto his cock.

"More?" he asked, amused, even as his cock twitched in anticipation, and she splayed one hand on his chest for balance and maneuvered him between her thighs with her other.

"Might as well," she said simply, an actual smile ghosting her lips. But it disappeared with a quiet gasp as she sunk down onto him. He guided her hips with his hands as she adjusted, then she began to move on her own, rocking against him.

Peeta groaned deep in his chest. "Fuck…I think I like this view better," he mused, sliding his hands up and down her thighs. She moaned in response and closed her eyes, tucking her knees against his rib cage to give herself more leverage to slide up and down his cock. Her movements caused him to swear again, and she smiled.

They moved slower this time, more languidly than the frantic, anger-fueled fucking from before, just reveling in the feel of each other. Peeta's hands mapped every inch of her, from the bend of her knee to the curve of her spine, like he was an expert cartographer. But she enjoyed most when he touched her breasts, kneading them, feeling the weight of them in his palms. He sat up to kiss them, licking his tongue over them, before he attached his mouth to her neck.

"I swear, you look like a fucking masterpiece right now, in the light of the fire," he growled.

She scoffed, but it came out more like a gasp, her hips undulating more firmly against his. The angle stimulated her clit, and she could feel the swell of another orgasm building. "You're so full of shit," she breathed, twining her arms around his shoulders.

His laugh was strained, his breaths heavier; he must be close too. "I think you know…that I am nothing…if not honest with you."

She couldn't focus on a retort, lost in the crescendo of her climax that hit her a moment later. She lost her rhythm as she came, stilling on top of him with her moan muffled into the nook of his neck. He jerked her hips down onto him a few more times before he came as well, his fingers bruising her ass as he gripped her tightly, filling the condom with his semen.

The lingering pulsations of her orgasm ebbed, and she waited until his cock stopped throbbing inside her before she lifted her head, pushing her damp hair out of her sweaty face. His cheeks were flushed, and perspiration dotted his hairline, curling the ends of his hair that was plastered to his forehead and nape.

Words escaped her as she stared at him, and all she could muster was a shy, unsure smile. He gave her a lopsided grin, expelling a soft, short laugh through his nose. "Is this awkward yet?" he asked.

"Getting there," she agreed drolly, relieved that he broke the tension. Lifting her hips off him, Katniss scrunched her nose as he slipped out of her, then she lay down beside him, pulling the blanket over naked, sticky body. Peeta removed the condom but this time got up to dispose of it and the other one. When he returned, she silently watched him move around, indifferent to his own nudity as he added more wood to the dying fire, stoking it until it raged back stronger. Then he grabbed another blanket off the couch and settled on the floor next to her, having her move for a moment so he could spread it out underneath them. She was surprised when he pulled her against his side, curling under the blanket with her as he held her. Tentatively, she rested her head on his chest, confusion clouding her better judgment.

How was it that only hours ago they were ready to kill each other?

"Stop thinking so much." His voice was throaty, glib but stern. She frowned to herself, angling her face to look up at him.

"What are you—"

"I can practically feel those wheels spinning in your head. Just relax. Bask in the orgasmic afterglow of sex. We can figure stuff out tomorrow—or the day after that, if you'd prefer to have more sex first," he said, dipping his chin slightly so he could smile at her. She scowled, eliciting a laugh from him. "That's number 20, I think. I lost count."

"Stop talking so much," she grumbled, closing her eyes.

"Sounds good," he yawned. "Sleep now."

"Bed?" she asked, though she felt too sluggish to move.

He hummed in the negative. "No. This is nice right here."

So they fell asleep just like that.

* * *

"Well, isn't this cozy."

Katniss fought against the fog of sleep, a familiar, scoffing voice drawing her out of a dream. She blinked her eyes open, crust gluing her eyelashes together; she squinted blearily as she tried to gather her bearings, feeling Peeta stirring underneath her.

A burning whiteness made it hard for her to focus her eyes, and a gust of cold air made her shiver. A loud, thunderous door slam a second later jolted her, and her eyes widened when she realized it was the front door of the cabin shutting.

And it was Johanna who had slammed it.

Gasping, Katniss grappled with the blanket to fully shield her naked body, but her frantic efforts completely exposed Peeta. "Hey," he protested, his voice thick with sleep; he didn't appear to fully comprehend their situation yet.

"Shut up," she hissed desperately, tossing the blanket over his crotch and clutching it up to her chin. Fearfully, she directed her gaze back to Johanna, who just shook her head.

"Don't bother, brainless. It's pretty obvious you two fucked," she snorted.

Peeta finally lifted his head, jarred by Johanna's voice. "Oh," he said stupidly, and Katniss groaned inwardly, disappearing under the blanket.

With another shake of her head, Johanna hoisted her bag over her shoulder and headed toward the hallway, her triumphant cackle trailing behind her. "Guess I'll be getting that room to myself after all."

 


End file.
